What's in a Name?
by Instead of Reality
Summary: Ron happens upon Viktor stumbling with pronouncing Hermione's name. One-shot fluffy drabble.


**What's in a Name? **

**A Harry Potter Fan-Fic**

**Author's Note: **JK Rowling created this universe, not me. Also, thanks Will Shakespeare for lending me your line from _Romeo & Juliet _for a title.

Just some cute little one-shot, fluffy drabble for your enjoyment.

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><p>"Hermione," she said patiently. "HER-MY-OH-KNEE."<p>

"Hermininny. Her-me-knee," he repeated, almost successfully. "Herm-ninny. Hermy-own-knee."

The bushy-haired fourteen-year-old girl heaved a sigh. "Almost."

He clasped his hands around hers, her tiny pen-stained hand swallowed up by his large calloused palms. "I am sorry. I truly vant to say it correctly." It was hard to miss the sincerity in his voice and eyes, and she felt a twinge of guilt for being exasperated.

"You're nearly there," she offered him a smile. In response, he kissed her fingers.

"You are patient as you are beautiful and smart," he told her, his Bulgarian accent thick and rolling. She blushed, flattered by his words and his attention. She knew that her head should be reeling that _Viktor Krum_, of all people, was paying her such diligent attention, and her heart gave little _ker-plumps_ every so often, but it wasn't quite the same as she had always imagined.

Maybe, she thought, once he can say my name properly, it will be better. She had read enough romance novels to know that when your true love says your name, it's supposed to make your heart race and your stomach drop and your head spin and your eyes sparkle. After all, books don't lie.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't noticed Viktor leaning his face closer and closer towards hers, his dark eyes intent on her mouth.

"Oi, Hermione!"

Viktor muttered what sounded like a curse under his breath as she spun around to face whoever was yelling. Loping towards them through the library shelves was Ron Weasley, books clutched under his arms and shirt tail untucked under his uniform sweater.

She frowned. "I thought you weren't speaking to me, Ronald," she told him as he stopped in front of them.

"Oh yeah," he paused awkwardly, remembering that, in fact, he had been giving her the cold shoulder. "Well, I just wanted to remind you, erm, that I am _not_ speaking to you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You don't make any sense."

"Well, you make too much sense," Ron shot back.

"A person can never make too much sense," Hermione replied.

Ron glared at her, trying to summon the words to make her realize how insulted he was.

"I agree with Hermy-own-nin-ninny."

The two Gryffindors turned to look at the internationally-famous Quidditch star, who shrugged.

"No one asked you," Ron pointed out hotly. "This is a private argument, Krum. Between Hermy-own-ninny and myself."

Viktor looked at Hermione, whose face had gone red at Ron's barb. "Go on, Viktor. I'll catch you up later."

The Durmstrang student's shoulders slumped as he stood up. Hermione gave his hand, still holding hers, a squeeze to reassure him—something she felt she ought to do. Grateful, he offered her a small smile and kissed her forehead swiftly before departing, shooting the gangly ginger a dark look.

Hermione watched him go and once he was out of earshot, she rounded on Ron. "That was _horrible_ of you. It's not his fault he can't say it. You don't have to go and taunt him like that."

Ron crossed his arms. "Go on, defend your precious boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Beet red, Hermione raised her voice defensively.

"I don't know, you two sure looked cozy back here in your little library hideaway. If he's not your boyfriend, what are you doing? Telling him all of Harry's weaknesses? Helping Vicky figure out the second task?"

"As if I would ever do that! Ron, you know very well Harry is my _friend_. You think I would ever do anything to hurt a friend?"

"I'm your friend, aren't I? You've hurt me, haven't you?"

Hermione stood up, eyes blazing, and shoved him, forcing him to clutch his books. Chest to chest, she hissed at him. "_Hurt_ _you_? How have I hurt _you_? Because I didn't go to the ball with you? Is that it? Well, Ron, I'm sorry you got stuck with Padma, but Viktor asked me before you did—and he asked me because he wanted me to go with him—not because he didn't have anyone else!"

"That's not why I asked you!"

"Yes, it is. Don't you lie, Ron Weasley." Hermione crossed her arms and glared at him fiercely, the memory stinging as he had suggested that no one else would want to go with her.

Ron's face was brilliantly crimson, clashing horribly with his hair. "I didn't mean it like that! I meant to ask you before but I'm awful, and you know what? I didn't know how to say it without telling you I care!"

"You care? What are you blathering on about?" Hermione's heart fluttered, coming to a screeching halt from the hammering it had just been doing during their argument.

Ron bit his lip, realizing he had said something he hadn't meant to verbalize. "Never mind," he mumbled, starting to back away.

"Tell me." Her voice was firm, but there was a softness in her tone that beckoned the words he had kept locked away for so long out of him.

"Alright, alright. I wanted to go with you…but I didn't know how to ask…so that it wouldn't sound like I…oh, for Merlin's sake, because I fancy you. All right? Are you happy now, Hermione?" He spit out the last of his words, waiting a moment to see how she would receive it—would she laugh in his face? Run away screaming? She did neither.

She was sitting quite still, her heart racing and her stomach dropping and her head spinning and her eyes sparkling. All because he had said her name. Her mind whirred, processing it – these internal reactions occured the moment the syllables that formed her name had left his lips.

He was watching her carefully. She didn't look upset. Actually, she looked the opposite. Her brown eyes were large, but they were dancing as she met his gaze. Hope swelled in his chest and he quickly decided it was now or never. He leaned forward so their faces were very, very close.

"I hated seeing you hold his arm. I hated seeing you dance with him. I hated seeing you sitting with him all alone back here. And right now, not five minutes ago, he was going to kiss you and I just couldn't let him. He can't even say your name properly. _I_ know your name. Does it mean I need to say your name a million wrong ways so that you will let me kiss you? Why can't I kiss you because I can say your name the one right way? Her_mi_one."

Hermione had lost the ability to breathe as his warm breath and passionate words washed over her, but when he said her name, emphasizing the "my", she didn't even have the muscle ability to gasp.

"Her_mi_one. Her_mi_one. Her_mi_one. _My_ Hermione."

His lips hovered just above hers as he whispered her name over and over again, and finally Hermione leaned forward and softly pressed her lips to his.

She felt him start, surprised at her kiss, but he relaxed and eased his mouth tenderly over hers. She heard a thump and realized he had dropped his books on the floor, and his arms were now free to wrap about her. She grasped at his elbows, needing something to hold on to.

Finally, needing air, they broke apart. They stared at each other for a few minutes.

"Is—is that okay?" he asked, nervously.

"If I ever hear you call me Hermy-own-ninny again, I will hex you."

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><p><strong>It's not really that good, just some drabble I wanted to get out of my head. I love possessive, jealous Ron. Tell me what you think! <strong>


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